


Playing With Fire

by Girl_WithTheDirtyMind



Series: Dirty, Sexy Times: You/Dean Winchester [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anticipation, Begging, Blood, Cunnilingus, Demon Dean Winchester, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intensity, Minor Hair-Pulling, Murder, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scary Dean Winchester, Sexual Intercourse, Sexual implications, Stripper!Reader, Threats, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girl_WithTheDirtyMind/pseuds/Girl_WithTheDirtyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were the stripper in 10x2. . . You picked up Dean's $20 when he told you to. </p><p>Basically everything leading up to the bouncer trying to kick Dean out of the club is cannon accurate, differences begin to occur when Dean kills the bartender and you run to hide in the bathroom with a friend. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing With Fire

**Author's Note:**

> While both characters enjoy the sex, there is EXTREMELY dubious consent! Demon Dean is also very violent in sections of the story line so if that bothers you please do not continue :) Otherwise, enjoy!

Stripping had its perks.

You owned a dozen or more lingerie ensembles for the nights you felt like getting a little frisky with your boyfriend, it kept you in top physical condition, you only had to work three nights a week, and you put your old retail salary to shame.

Plus it made you feel really _really_ sexy, like your self confidence had been multiplied by a million since you started working this job. People openly reminded you how hot you were all the time here. . . It made it easier to believe it yourself.

You’d picked up an extra mid-week shift to try out a new routine when there weren’t so many people out.

Decked out in red heels, a bikini top with an American flag printed on it, and shorts shorter than Daisy’s. You were working the All American Girl angle to “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. And to your satisfaction, as well as the few men’s in the club, it seemed to be hitting really well.

Plus you were getting really into it, like you did with most good 80’s songs, whipping your curled (h/c) hair back and forth and shaking your ass better than Minaj.

You even saw Carl, the oldest bouncer in the joint, point up at you nodding encouragement. He was a good guy.

Toward the guitar solo you closed your eyes, pressed your back to the warm metal, and slid slowly down the pole. Bending your knees and spreading your thighs wide like you would when there were actually people watching.

A low masculine growl of approval made itself known over the blaring music and startled your (e/c) eyes back open, but you kept dancing.

Always keep dancing.

There was a man there that you hadn’t noticed before, right between your thighs, eyeing your core like he was trying to engage x-ray vision to see through your shorts. You smiled to yourself, he was attractive and he had a wad of money at the ready, so you would give him a show.

Hell getting a dollar on a weekday as slow as this one was like Christmas.

You closed your eyes again and ran a hand down between your legs, gliding over what he wanted most and caressing your exposed skin seductively. Out of nowhere though, there was a large warm hand that wasn’t yours massaging your ankle and your eyes snapped open admittedly a touch panicked.

“Hey no touching,” you reminded him while brushing his hand away.

You stood to put a little more distance between the two of you, but kept on dancing thinking he was just a little drunk.

“You sure about that?” his voice was low and gravelly, and he had a cocky smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You circled your hips with your arms raised and watched him fish through his wad of ones until he found a twenty.

He placed it at your feet with purpose and turned his gaze back up to your eyes,

“Go ahead,” he cocked an eyebrow and then all but growled, “pick it up.” you stopped dancing then. He was watching you in your mental debate. Something warned you in the back of your mind that picking up that money was a bad idea, but another insisted that this guy was just some drunk idiot who was asking for his money to disappear.

You listened to the second voice.

Instead of stooping to pick up the twenty like he thought you might, you took the toe of your heel and scooted it toward you across the stage. The moment his eyes glinted with triumph you knew you’d made a mistake.

You slid back down the pole, snatched the bill off the cold stage, and pocketed it quickly. The man reached for you again and you jerked upright to move behind the pole.

“I think we’re done here,” your voice was a little shaky from how intensely he was looking at you.

“Hey hey hey. Songs not over Sweetheart,” he cooed with mock concern, and you looked over at Carl giving him a signal with your eyes to come over here.

“Hey time to go dickwad,” okay everything was going to be alright now, you could relax and finish your set. The unsettling man headbutted Carl releasing a spray of blood from his face, and threw him into the stage.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming until he pulled Carl back up and delivered a crushing blow to his temple, then gave you a wink.

“Gimme a second Sugar,” he growled and continued his brutal assault on your friend.

You ran.

Of course you did, you wanted no part of that.

You could feel the man’s balled up twenty in your shorts like it was made of hot coals, burning a hole through your pocket, reminding you how dangerous it is to play with fire.

You were headed to the private bathroom with the other dancers, that was where you all hid when shit got real in the bar. Tonight there were only two other girls, and one of them took off toward the makeup room. New girl probably.

Tiffany-if that was her actual name-grabbed your hand like you were besties, and shoved you into the handicapped stall before she dove into one of the others. She was a few years younger than you, maybe not even legal, but she’d been in the game her whole life.

“Why the Hell would you goad a guy on like that ?” she hissed at you from her stall.

“What do you mean? I just took the money he laid out, I was hardly _goading_ him.” Right? This wasn’t your fault _right_?

“Whatever. Better hope Carl don’t get it too bad, or you can kiss this joint goodbye sister.” Well it looked pretty bad to you already, but you weren’t going to give her an answer.

“What the Hell’s takin so long anyway, they shoulda come got us by now.” you winced at Tiffany’s English, or lack there of, and began to pace around your stall impatiently.

She was right.

It never took this long to kick a guy out. On cue the door swung open with a creak and you let out a breath you’d been holding,

“Fuckin _finally_ ,” Tiffany grumbled and stood up from her seat, “I was beginin to think you forgot bout us.” she gave a childish giggle and you heard her door unlatch, so you did the same.

You both froze after a look at the man in front of you, covered in copious amounts of blood with a sick grin on his face. Tiffany startled backward into you when he lifted a hand to point over her shoulder,

“Found ya,” he ground out. Your throat closed and you stumbled back into the stall to swing the door closed and slam the latch down, hoping Tiffany would do the same.

A strangled cry echoed off of the walls letting you know she’d been too slow and you screamed in fear for the young girl.

“Tiffany!” a heavy thud on the tile stopped your heart and you peeked under the door to see the tiny girl struggling beneath the man. She was crying, terrified, sobbing hysterically as she clawed at the floor on her belly frantically trying to escape.

You could see his hand clamp roughly over the back of her neck and she stilled, breathing erratically, as he leaned down near her ear. You could see his face then, he was smiling, and a shiver of icy fear worked down your spine.

“Tiffany is it?” he growled. She was whimpering in his hold, unable to control her terror. “Better answer me, doll.” the warning was chilling, and you couldn’t look away.

“Ye-yes.” she sobbed, “Please Mister, d-don’t _hurt_ me.” she was crying loudly, but you heard him chuckle darkly at her pleas.

“How old are you. . . fifteen I’d guess,” he assessed her and a literal growl vibrated through him when she didn’t answer again. She squeaked in fear at the primal sound,

“Yes-sorry- _yes_. I’m fifteen. . .” she hiccuped on a sob, “Please. . .”

“What would you say if I told you all your friends out there are dead, huh? That I killed em?” the small girl shrieked in response, the fearful sound vibrated your eardrums painfully and you winced.

“, please help me!” she was thrashing around again, but it was in vain. The guy probably had 100 pounds on her.

You saw his hand snake into his back pocket and draw out a knife, Tiffany must of heard him flick it open because she was openly bawling now.

The glittering blade disappeared behind her head out of view and she was jerking back away from it as best as she could.

“Looks to me like your friend doesn’t care about you much honey.” she stilled tight as a bow, “I’ll start with taking out your eyes, does that sound good?”

“ _No!_ No please don’t! _Please!_ ” her voice was raw, and her hands went to cover her face weakly.

Your wide eyes flickered to a growing puddle of wetness spreading slowly across the floor from Tiffany’s hips. She pissed herself. She was so scared that she _pissed_ herself. That broke your heart for some reason. She was so young . . .

“Seriously?” the man must’ve noticed too, “Well if I didn’t want to kill ya before. . .”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry- _please_ -I’m sorry. . .” humiliated sobs bounced off the tile,

“If  unlatches her door, I’ll let you up. And you can run home to mommy how’s that sound sweetheart?” your heart froze. You had to. . . but you sure as hell didn’t want to end up like Tiffany was right now. You had to though. . .

“ -I just want to go home-” your name broke on her voice. That was the last push you needed to stand up and snap back the latch. You immediately heard her quick frantic breathing turn into long relieved gushes of air.

“ _Shh. . .Shh. . ._ You’re alright sweetheart, nothin like a good scare to make a week interesting. Am I right?” there was shuffling outside your stall as they both got up from the floor, the fading click of Tiffany’s running heels against the hard floor made you let out a breath you’d been holding.

 

Your stall door opened slowly, like he expected you to attack him when he came in. Maybe you should have, but you’d seen the way he dominated Tiffany, you weren’t much bigger than her.

His knife was still out, laughing up at you menacingly from its spot in his hand, and you backed up until you felt the cold stone wall.

He leisurely made his way into the stall with that same frightening smirk on his face from the bar. Now that you were off of the stage his size was prominent to you, he looked down on you from close to a foot higher, and you knew that fighting him was off the table if you wanted to live.

“Wow she was a screamer wasn’t she?” he spoke like it was something you had enjoyed watching,

“Name’s Dean by the way,” then his face took on a mask of faux concern, “why the tears doll?” your hand shot up to your face and came back wet, holy shit you were crying.

It’d been awhile since you’d done that.

When he prowled closer your chest hitched and you pressed as far back into the wall as possible, flinging pride out the window. God this guy was scary. Suddenly an idea sparked in your mind, and you dug in your back pocket for the wadded up twenty.

The look on his face while he watched you was amused, like he already guessed your pathetic plan.

“H-here. Take your money back, I’m sorry I picked it up.” you extended the bill to him, admittedly a little frightened that he would just grab you. “Just take it. It’s what you wanted, right?” Wrong.

You already had an idea of what he wanted, but hoped playing dumb would keep him away from you for longer.

“Nope. Clothes off.” he clipped. Your eyes widened and brimmed with fresh tears. Dean cocked his head down at you and gripped the knife a little firmer, you dropped the money and drew your arm back to your chest away from him. He watched it flutter to the ground.

“N- _no_. . .” you whimpered up at him, he was close enough to touch now and you worked to keep your breathing under control. He smelled like a combination sweat, spice, blood, and man. . . A mixture that was doing odd things to your terrified brain.

“Well then allow me,” he breathed, his words ghosting over your cheeks.

You knew you should be protest when he brought the knife up, but the rational part of your brain reminded you that this guy could hurt you. Easily. So you stayed still, and he slowly, while boring his hooded green eyes into your (e/c) ones, cut away your flimsy bikini top.

Then in one fluid motion did the same with your shorts, leaving no scrap of clothing to cover you.

Instead of being violent like you expected from him, Dean slowly leaned down closer to your face so that your lips were barely touching. He pocketed the knife just before his soft full lips captured yours, his hand went to your hair and pulled your head back for better access to your mouth.

You felt your body relaxing against the wall, and you found yourself running your hands up under his shirt, finding satisfyingly solid muscle underneath. He moaned into your mouth in approval and you felt his warm soft tongue break passed your lips, massaging yours passionately.

Dean pressed into you more firmly and you could feel an impressive bulge pushing against your belly button coaxing out a whimper from you that he aggressively swallowed. His hands were kneading your breasts, and he broke away from your kiss to attack your neck all tongue and teeth on your pulse point, making you gasp out in unexpected pleasure.

You moaned loudly when his fingers twisted your nipples roughly at the same time and he replaced a hand with his hot mouth, leaving a trail of wetness from your collarbone to your nipple.

“Oh God _please._ . .” you breathed, but not for the right reason.

You bucked up against him, needing some kind of friction against your heat. You felt him smirk on your nipple before his warm hand trailed across your belly to the apex of your thighs.

“ _Ahh!_ ” you cried out softly when he ran two fingers over your outer lips, not quite enough pressure to make you come.

“Is that what you want baby?” he licked a path up your throat to your mouth, and mumbled against your lips, “You want to come for me?” your tongue darted out and hit him on his lower lip, and you nodded feverishly trying to push down on his circling fingers.

“Say it baby,” he chuckled darkly, “you gotta say it for me.” your face flushed with frustration, and you barely held back a cry when he suddenly traveled down the length of your body, nipping and licking in all the right places.

Dean was on his knees before you and he hooked one leg over his broad shoulder before looking up at you expectantly.

“Is this what you want ?” he removed his tortuous fingers and placed a single chaste kiss to the outer lips of your sex. The visual made you buck up off of the wall,

“Y- _yes_!” you whined desperately, scratching at the wall like an animal in heat,

“Yes what?” you could hear the smile behind his words,

“Yes l-lick my pussy. . . _Please_ ,” you whispered hungerly.

Without warning his tongue separated your folds and you screamed out at the sensation. There was nothing gentle about it, it was a full on assault, but it felt so deliciously amazing that you began humping his face before he could push you back with a strong hand to the stomach.

Growling against you he plunged his tongue deep and speared into your aching body with a vengeance. When he swirled his velvety spear back up to the bundle of nerves, your hand flashed to his hair and you pulled hard when sparks of electricity shot through your core.

He growled almost every time you yanked on him washing your pussy in strong baritone vibrations that made your knees weak.

“ _Ahh!_ Please. . .” you whimpered feverishly, so close to the edge.

He smiled against you and unceremoniously inserted two fingers to massage your walls in time with his tongue on your clit.

You looked down on him, head between your thighs, one hand spreading you wider, eating you out with a passion you’d never experienced. When he looked up to meet your eyes you came undone, he gave you a heart stopping wink and curled his thick fingers inside of you hitting the spot that sent you completely over the edge.

“Oh fuck _Dean_!” you screamed his name as pleasure crashed through you in waves, he licked you through it tortuously slow until you body stopped jerking with pleasure pulses. Your skin was sheen with sweat and you were panting heavily.

When he tossed your leg from his shoulder you just slumped down the wall until your ass hit the floor, unable to support yourself with your weak knees, and he smiled down at you knowingly.

“That makes all the girls go crazy,” he grumbled mostly to himself and began to unbutton his jeans. The sound of a zipper broke through your daze and you remembered where you are all at once.

This man just got done murdering everyone you know, and threatening Tiffany.

Suddenly, you were aware of your limbs again and the urge to move flooded through you. You struggled to get away from him, the floor, this bathroom. You needed to get away and to run until you were alone and safe. He made another animalistic growl and slammed you down against the tiles so hard you lost your breath again.

His hand returned to knot itself in your hair and he leaned in again, his lips against your ear. He growled then,

“Don’t fucking move, I made you come. It’s only polite that you return the favor.” He pushed his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock, already hard and dripping at the tip. It was bigger than anything you’d ever taken.

“Please,” you whimpered, unable to do anything else. You wondered if he’d hurt you now, become violent like you thought he would have to begin with. He shifted so that he was between your legs and he attached his mouth to your neck once again forcing you to relax into him.

You felt his thick tip prodding your entrance and just like you feared, he thrusted himself to the hilt in one swift motion.

You couldn’t stop the scream that forced it’s way out of your throat. You were splitting in half and melting around him all at the same time. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support.

His rock-hard cock was merciless but amazing, thrusting hard and fast into you connecting with something deep inside of you that had you seeing stars. His hands gripped you too tightly, his teeth broke the skin on your neck, and his body was like a furnace, radiating heat.

His skin seemed to sear yours where he touched you.The floor was so cold, but he was burning around you and on you and in you. With each thrust you were dragged roughly against tile; with each snap of his hips you felt a wave of heat crash from him and into you, radiating.

It was exquisite. The most amazing thing you’d ever felt.

No one dared be so rough with you before and you’ll never be able to get enough of it from that moment on. With a grunt, he shifted you to a different angle, his hips continued their glorious pace. You cried out at the shift, feeling the slow build of liquid heat and tension deep within your belly.

You clutched frantically at his broad shoulders,

“ _Dean. . ._ ” you groaned as your head lolled to rest against the tile, his lips hungerly attacked the newly exposed skin of your neck, causing your breath to hitch. The scent of blood, leather, and spice filled your nostrils and his stubble scratched wonderfully against your cheek.

He was all man. Everything you’d needed.

From this angle, you could hear the soft grunts coming from his throat, in time with the thrusts from his hips, and the primal sound sparked your arousal violently.

Cautiously, your tongue flicked out to graze his lips and he immediately devoured your mouth with his, softly, passionately, skillfully. He let out a gravelly moan for you to swallow in the kiss and increased the relentless pace of his thrusts, pounding into you.

Each of your senses were overwhelmed.

You moaned with every exhale and your limbs were trembling. The heat and pressure built up until finally, you were pushed over the precipice and you came hard a second time, throwing your head back with a loud broken cry.

Your whole body shuddered with your orgasm and you felt yourself clamp down on his hot hard thickness.

“Oh fuck me, oh _God_! _Dean_!” you squealed through your climax. . .

Coming down just as the steady snap of his hips faltered for a moment and he too came with a gravelly moan, filling you with a final burst of heat. After a moment of just breathing on each other, trying to recover, Dean snickered into your neck,

“Looks like you’re a screamer too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) Comments and suggestions are welcome as always!


End file.
